Disclaimers: I do not own The Lord of the Rings. The Lord of the Rings and other Middle-earth works belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, Peter Jackson, New Line Cinema, Warner Brothers, Turbine and Standing Stones Games. All other canon material belongs to their respected owners. All original material—original characters, original locations, etc.—belongs to me, the authoress of this fanfiction story.

Inspiration for Chapter 2: "The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King".

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Frodo and Sam reached Mount Doom. The task that remained was how they were going to climb the volcano.

The Ring was heavy upon Frodo's shoulders. His neck swelled. Frodo clambered up the mountain, his mind reeling over what he experienced at Barad-dûr.

He collapsed on the mountain slope, daydreaming about his beloved. He had seen her. She was twelve. He was sixteen. But he had seen her. He knew she was close. She was very close.

He could feel her breath upon him. Where was she? Was it that large screen he saw in front of him, that the One Ring showed him? Yes, there she was, to his right, staring at him.

He stared weakly back at her. Determination filled his heart. Yes, he would find Beatrice. He would reach her. He had to reach her. He clambered up the rocky slope, his thoughts reeling with anticipation. He stretched out his hand to her, hoping she could see him.

It wasn't enough. He collapsed on the ground; his eyes closed. He drew a breath, letting one out as he exhaled. He was tired, thirsty, starving. All he could do, all he could see was Beatrice, even as Sam picked him up and held him in his arms.

"Do you remember the Shire, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked, teary-eyed. Frodo kept his eyes closed, dreaming of the Shire, dreaming of Beatrice Blutman. He wanted her. He wanted to see the Shire again. But that Eye… that Eye of Sauron kept staring him down.

"It'll be spring soon… and the orchards will be in blossom… and the birds will be nesting in the hazel thicket… and they'll be sowin' the summer barley in the lower fields…" Sam said, calmly, reminding Frodo of the Shire and all they loved, "…and eatin' the first of the strawberries with cream. Do you remember the taste of strawberries?"

"Oh Sam, I can't recall the taste of food…" Frodo's mind drifted. He knew he was saying these words, as if meeting with his own self. At the same time, he had to get this thought out… but he couldn't. The more he tried, the more Sauron pushed Beatrice out of his mind. What was he doing?! "…I can see him with my waking eyes!" Frodo trembled. There was no stopping Sauron. Frodo could hardly move. He could hardly do anything, except let Sam carry him on his back up the mountain slope.

.

Frodo felt the weight of the Ring on him now. He sighed in relief at the mention of the doorway. What didn't relief Frodo was being thrown off Sam's back. Realization startled him. He tried to get away from Smeagol, but he couldn't. Smeagol flipped him over, reaching for his neck and grabbing it, choking the life out of him.

"Mustn't go that way. Mustn't hurt the precious," Smeagol said in a conniving voice.

"But you swore! You swore on the precious!" Frodo said, attempting to speak through the choking. Smeagol made a baby face at him. Frodo had to say something. "Smeagol promised!"

Smeagol stared at him, cunningly, "Smeagol lied," resuming to choke Frodo yet again.

Frodo felt his throat contracting. His veins and arteries were starting to break. Only Sam's thrust with a rock sent Smeagol off of Frodo. Frodo coughed, sputtering as he tried to regain sense of his world. He turned to Smeagol, who was ready to attack him, if not for Sam careening into Smeagol, diving for him. Smeagol hurtled lower down with Sam, the two in a major fist fight.

Frodo peered over his shoulder. He watched Sam and Smeagol face off. But no! He had to complete his task. For Beatrice. For the good of all things. He couldn't let Sauron win! Not now, not when he was so close to the end. But he wanted to ensure that Beatrice had a chance to escape.

Yes, he would do this task. He ran up the mountain slope, clutching the Ring as he climbed. Determination filled him. Yes, he would complete this task. He would, even as he climbed up the final slope to the where the Crack of Doom stood.

.

At last, he ran inside, reaching the edge of the ledge where flowing lava stood down below. He heard Sam's voice call out to him. Frodo turned around, facing Sam with worried eyes.

"I'm here, Sam," Frodo had removed the necklace where the One Ring had once hung around his neck.

Sam told him, fast, "Destroy it!"

Frodo looked on at Sam, knowingly. Frodo turned around, bringing the One Ring out in front of him, right over the ledge where the lava stood out. Frodo stared at the lava down below, an overwhelming sensation of emotions coursing through him. He couldn't do it. He couldn't complete this final task. After months of trekking across Middle-earth, he simply could not do this task.

And the Ring understood. Only Frodo's mind had already snapped, thanks to Sauron earlier. His mind couldn't take another snap. So, it fell under the Ring's gaze, growing smarter by the second. He looked on, watching himself face Sam, turning to him with an evil gaze and taking the Ring for his own.

"The Ring is mine," Frodo's own voice said behind him, putting the Ring on for his own.

Frodo gulped, watching the replay, as Beatrice stared at this scene. But it wasn't the one that was transpiring now. Frodo turned around, spotting Smeagol dive for him. Frodo had no choice. He ducked away from him, passing the One Ring onto him.

Frodo collapsed on the floor, reeling with thoughts over what had happened. He looked up, realizing that Smeagol had tripped over his own feet. Frodo gasped, turning to the ledge as Smeagol fell into the lava, the One Ring falling with him.

Frodo looked up at Sauron's spirit approached him. Only it was an angelic version of Sauron that Frodo hadn't expected to find. Frodo watched Sauron's angelic form point to the way out, vanishing into the lava below.

"Come on, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, picking up Frodo, leading the hobbit away from the area.

"Thank you, Sam," Frodo said, running with him out of Mount Doom.

As soon as they jumped to the nearest rock, Frodo climbed onto the large rock with Sam. Frodo sighed, collapsing on the black rock, his mind freed of Sauron and the One Ring.

"I'll be watching you, Frodo Baggins," Sauron's spirit said, vanishing a moment later.

Frodo sighed in relief, telling Sam, "It's gone. It's done."

"Yes, Mr. Frodo. It's over now," Sam said, sighing in relief.

Frodo was himself again. But that screen was still following him, showing him Beatrice. He wasn't out of this yet. There was still more to do. Frodo was glad that Beatrice was with him throughout his whole journey.

"I can see the Shire. Brandywine River. Bag End. Gandalf's fireworks. The lights. The Party Tree," Frodo said, his eyes closed as he remembered these happy times.

"Rosie Cotton dancin'," Sam said, remembering Rosie. Frodo opened his eyes, turning to Sam in an effort to stay awake. Sam continued his remembering, tears streaming down his face. "If ever I was to marry someone, it would've been her. It would've been her!"

Frodo sat up, wrapping an arm around Sam, "I'm glad to be with you, Samwise Gamgee. Here at the end of all things."